Over the past few days I’ve started to feel better about the situation . . . realising that she’ll have to answer for her actions . . . and I have to let her go . . . I’ve always felt somewhat responsible for her . . . kind of like a big sister if you will . . . but I can’t do that anymore . . . she’s an adult . . . she’s made her choices . . . she’ll have to live with the consequences of those choices. I will continue to pray for her but I have to let go.
You know, I don’t even think of her son as mine anymore. Now that I examine it, I’m not ever sure I did, except for those few blessed hours when I thought he WAS mine. I’m not sure it even makes sense, but it’s like Zachary and her son are 2 seperate people. Like Zachary really only ever existed when he was going to be ours . . . and when she chose to keep him, Zachary ceased to exist. Like there really was a death involved . . . even if it was “merely” the death of my dreams.
I have ALWAYS felt like our family was not complete at one child. In fact, I was given a blessing several years ago which stated quite clearly that I would have more than one child. During the time when we were preparing for Zachary’s arrival, I felt very strongly like that was to be the fulfillment of that blessing I’d been given so many years earlier.
After things fell through though, I was given another blessing which seemed to indicate that I would be as Sarah was . . . only knowing one child in this lifetime, but blessed to have a numerous posterity.
I guess that’s what makes it so hard when people whom I KNOW mean well say things like “I’ve been praying for you that you’ll have the opportunity to have more children” or “you never know when another child will come into your life”.
Those things hurt . . . It feels like somehow they’re telling me that if I would just have enough faith, that I would magically get pregnant or another fluke adoption situation would present itself to us (we are NOT putting our papers in to adopt, either through LDS Family Services, or through the province . . . we’ve been specifically told those are not things we are supposed to do).
I suppose what I need is for someone to acknowledge that this very well could be my family for this lifetime. That another child probably will NOT come into my life . . . that this palpable ache I feel of empty arms will never go away and that I’ll always hurt in some ways (though that hurt will likely get easier as the years go by) when I see a mother with her baby.
I think people are afraid of that though . . . they want to see things through rosy glasses . . . rather than face the hard truth that having faith in God doesn’t always make things right in the end.
by Thalia's Child, on December 3 2009 @ 7:40 pm
I wish I could take some of the ache away from you, however, I think the hardship of the situation is probably what is going to lead to more blessings for you in the long run, as sucktastic as that seems.
There will always be opportunities which present themselves which will allow you to be a mother – whether to your own child, or the children of others – prepare your heart to make room for the many children who need some extra love that you can provide, regardless of whether you are their mother.
*hug*
by Beth, on December 4 2009 @ 2:36 am
Wow, you are spot-on in your observations. People want to help make it “right” for you and offer these “solutions” that maybe you hadn’t thought of (though how you could NOT have thought of such options seems crazy).
I hope I haven’t said the wrong thing in the past, because that’s never been my intent (but I think you realize that about people). I do know that it’s harder for me when people say nothing when I’m grieving than if they were to say the “wrong” thing. Maybe that’s not true with all grief, though.
Your way of describing Zachary and her son as two separate people was beautifully put. And I loved your insight about Sarah. Just a beautiful post.
Thinking of you.
by Kim, on December 4 2009 @ 9:00 am
I think that whenever we see someone we care about suffering we cherish the hope that we’ll somehow find exactly the right thing to say. That we’ll offer access to hope or comfort. I think that’s all such comments are meant to mean. Not a questioning of your faith or your decisions but a hope that they can help. even though they aren’t really equipped to.
Often though, we find the exact wrong words. For some of us, it’s almost a gift! Please be patient with those of us who don’t understand and sometimes say foolish things. ~hugs~
by Tonya, on December 4 2009 @ 12:51 pm
Well, the only comfort I can give you is to tell you that I know EXACTLY how you feel. Well, not exactly as I’m not you but the parts about aching everytime you see a woman with a baby in her arms. And, the part where you feel like people just don’t get it.
Yeah, I get that. I have lately just been trying to foucs on the blessing of at least having the one I have.
I know, more empty words. I’m sorry you hurt. I hope it helps to know you are not alone.
by Andrea, on December 9 2009 @ 7:50 am
From my long life experience (ha) I’ve learned that we really have NO idea what is in store for us. What we want and what we think we need may be completely different. I didn’t mean to imply that you just need more faith. I know the pain of wanting something righteous and good and not receiving it. I just wish that I had not wasted so much time longing for something that was not really in my control.
You may only have one child. You may have more. Enjoy your life the way it is now. And come what may, you’ll be happy.
You are so kind and bless the lives of many. And that is a huge talent and blessing no matter how many children you do or don’t have.
by Nancy Face, on December 10 2009 @ 8:37 pm
I just want you to know that I care. I’m so sad about the many heartbreaks you have suffered. xoxo